William Wordsworth

The Martial Courage Of A Day Is Vain

THE martial courage of a day is vain,An empty noise of death the battle's roar,If vital hope be wanting to restore,Or fortitude be wanting to sustain,Armies or kingdoms. We have heard a strainOf triumph, how the labouring Danube boreA weight of hostile corses; drenched with goreWere the wide fields, the hamlets heaped with slain.Yet see (the mighty tumult overpast)Austria a daughter of her Throne hath sold! And her Tyrolean Champion we beholdMurdered, like one ashore by shipwreck cast,Murdered without relief. Oh! blind as bold,To think that such assurance can stand fast!